


Hey Ho, Let's Go!

by TheGhostOfYou



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sexuality Crisis, punk!mickey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-20 09:53:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6001644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGhostOfYou/pseuds/TheGhostOfYou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And if that was not already enough, the boy turns all of a sudden, face so smug, as he flips a middle finger to everyone. He bounds off before Ian has enough time to let the shock of that brash action settle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey Ho, Let's Go!

The first time Ian had really introduced himself to Mickey had been the day of the little league game. Mickey had been standing on first base, whisps of blonde hair visible from under his hat. Ian had been so busy trying to get a look of the boy's face, but his back was turned. It wasn't until he heard the coach scream, that he realised why.

"Milkovich! Did you just... Did you just pee on base? That's it, kid. You're done. You're out." The coach was red in the face, the vein on his forehead looking like it was about to burst.

And if that was not already enough, the boy turns all of a sudden, face so smug, as he flips a middle finger to everyone. He bounds off before Ian has enough time to let the shock of that brash action settle. 

After the game he finds the fellow twelve year old hanging around the bleachers, a bottle wrapped in an old rag held to his lips. Ian knows Fiona never approves of bad company, but he can't suppress the need to get to know him. Something so intriguing about everything he did.

So he sits beside Mickey, who without thinking about it, passes Ian the bottle. Taking a wiff, Ian knows it's beer. How could he not know living with his father. 

The first sip is hesitant. "Don't think I've ever seen coah, that... Mad. It was kinda funny." The beer is awful, but Ian takes another gulp, holding his hand out. "I'm Ian." 

Blue eyes are in front of him, and they are full of so much life, so much energy that it's almost terrifying. The boy takes Ian's hand in a tight grip. "Mickey." 

Just like that, Ian had met his bestfriend.

•••

He and Mickey spent every day together. Whether it was the latter impatiently waiting outside the Kash and Grab for Ian's shift to be over, or sharing a cigarette on top of Mickey's roof.

Things went from talking about random topics like school, and cars to more personal discussions.

Ian told Mickey, about his mother. About her illness, how she ran away, and his father did nothing to help with the situation, how it was his big sister Fiona who made everything possible. And in return, sometimes Mickey told Ian about life with his dad, who after their mother died gave no attention to any of his children, making sure to see them spiral into a world of thugs and drug dealers. 

It helped, for them to share these things. Because one night not long after, just before midnight, Mickey knocks on Ian's door with his lip busted and eye swollen, asking to stay the night. There's no question to it, and Ian pulls him in, has his neighbour attend to Mickey's injuries with only minimal questions. 

Morning comes, and Ian wakes up to find Mickey no where in sight. Panicked, he bounds down the stairs in search of him. Mickey hadn't left like Ian had thought, instead he's pulling out a few loose bills from his wallet, placing them into the squirrel fund.

"You don't need to do that, Mick." Ian smiles softly, reaching for his best friends arm. 

Mickey places a hand over Ian's, squeezes then pats it once. "I know. I just wanted to." 

•••

One day, Mickey taps on Ian's shoulder just before forth period, and when he turns around, he's left standing with his jaw slacked open.

There's not a blonde head of hair before his eyes. No, Mickey's hair was now a black, jet black colour. It's different, and Ian takes a whole minute to really get a good look, at how beautifully it compliments Mickey's pale skin.

Ian laughs, and throws an arm around his shoulders. "Looks fucking beast man. Glad you didn't forget about the eyebrows."

Mickey wrinkles his nose, bumping into Ian in a light-hearted way. "Yeah? Was almost about to fuckin' skip on that, but the lady said it'd just make me look like a weirdo." 

•••

At one point, Ian thought he knew Mickey inside out, but the latter was always full of surprises. 

His taste had always been this way, different to most people. Ian himself can't remember the names of half the bands Mickey listens to. Some of them have great music, and a cool look. And Mickey's always talking about it, how much he likes it, how much he wishes he could be from that era. It's rebellious the whole thing, loud and making a statement, just like Mickey. 

But it still comes as a minor shock, when Mickey shows up to Ian's house late for their plans, with a ring punched into his lip.

Mickey has always had great lips, plump and red, and that silver line is only making them nicer. Ian loves it.

•••

Mickey really finds himself in their second last year of high school. He ditches his usual sense of style for something so much more bold. 

Today it's a faded Ramones t-shirt, dark jeans ripped in certain places, but without the usual leather jacket on top, because on Mickey's arms is blotches of colourful ink. Ian can't make it out at first, but when Mickey comes closer, he realises how nicely each design blends with the other. 

They obsession with Mickey's tattoo comes on too quick. Ian goes with him to the following sit-in's, watching the artwork grow, until finally it's one complete stunning piece that he can't stop touching, can't stop looking at. 

What's weird for Ian, is that lately, everytime he looks Mickey's way, he can't help but get this odd feeling brewing in his stomach.

•••

They're graduating today. And Ian is happier than he's ever been in his life. Things are working out well, so well. He's leaving for his college, his best friend of six years his roommate. The situation is perfect.

Mickey drives them to the ceremony and parks the car in one of the empty slots, car way more towards one side than the other.

Ian rolls his eyes, playfully. "God, Mick, park the car straight, it's kind of killing me." But the humor in his tone dies, when he glances over to see his friend tensed. "Hey, what's wrong? You nervous?" 

There's a moment of silence before Mickey answers him. "Maybe I can't park straight, 'cause I ain't." 

It's said so easily, rolling off Mickey's tongue like he's been planning to use that line. Ian blinks, because really he never had the slightest inclination.

"And you never told me? Mickeeeeey." Ian stretches out the name, leaning over to gently knock his fist into Mickey's arm. "How long you known? Oh My God, you didn't think I would get all freaked, did you? Because no way. You're my best friend, man. You could murder a guy in front of me and it wouldn't make shit of a difference. This doesn't make you any less than anyone else. Hell, you'll always be better."

Not a for a minute does Ian disagree with what he's just said. He means every word, Mickey will always shine brighter in his eyes than anyone else would.

Ian looks over to see Mickey shyly pick at his graduation gown, before he shrugs. "I just, I wasn't sure. And I wanted to be before I told you. And maybe I fuckin' felt afraid for a while, but uh, I trust you. Thanks, man. Means... Means more than you'll ever know." 

Just like than, Ian leans over, and in the awkward position pulls Mickey into a hug, waiting until he feels arms wrap around him in return. They stay like that for a while.

When Ian finally pulls away, there's a big grin on his face. He's ready, ready for the future. "Come on, let's go fucking do this! We... We did, it, Mick." 

Later when Ian goes to bed at night, he can't help but get goosebumps at the thought of Mickey with other men. He doesn't understand why.

•••

College is everything Ian wants it to be, he falls into his class schedule comfortably, takes up lacrosse. And best of all? He still has Mickey with him through all of it.

Ian walks out from the locker room, and there Mickey is standing, leaning against the opposite wall. There were more changes to him, like the vibrant blue at the tips of his otherwise still dark hair, and a similar smoky colour blended nicely along those deep, piercing eyes. It brings out the grey flecks in them, something Ian finds himself looking for too often.

He's there waiting to drive Ian to the apartment they share. They decided to find a place in their second year here, deciding it was a whole lot easier than living in the dorm rooms. After years of too many siblings cramped into one house, they both think they deserve the space.

It's nicely done up, Ian bringing his touch with all the homey furniture, and post-it notes on the counter in the kitchen. But there's a lot of Mickey, too. His posters, the odd drawing or two taped up in places from his sketchbook. Ian loves it, loves it more than his place back home. 

Today, however, he's not so keen to be couped up in their apartment. Mickey has someone over. It's not a new thing, yet Ian still grits his teeth every time it does happen. He can hear his best friend on the other side, laughing, trying to keep his gasps and groans quiet.

Lately, everything Mickey does, every sound he makes drives Ian insane. Every time he sees Mickey, sitting there across him, toying that lip ring with his tongue. It makes Ian feel like he might explode. He's always found Mickey good looking, has acknowledged that fact, but ever since they started college, Mickey has become so much more open, wearing eyeliner, growing comfortable with his sexuality, having guys over. 

Ian can't take it anymore. He fucks girls, he always has, but lately he's not into it anymore. Before recently, Ian always thought he was straight, but now, he's doubting it. He's into Mickey, desperately so.

Instead of torturing himself with more images of the man he yearns for with other people, Ian flips out his phone. He texts Bianca. She's pretty, and in his English class, and has expressed interest in him. They agree to meet up, and Ian takes off, barley struggling into his shoes. He slams the door closed harder than he means to.

The date goes miserably. Bianca is sweet, funny, and intelligent but Ian is barely listening to a word she's saying because she doesn't have these enchanting blue eyes, or very full lips, and she doesn't sing off-key to the Sex Pistols every morning over coffee. 

Without a proper explanation, or even a sentence strug together, he very apologetically leaves her behind at the cafe.

Ian realises it's not going to work, not with her not anyone, because he wants to be with Mickey more than anything.

Back at the apartment, Sean, or Nathan, or whatever his name was is just leaving. The guy smiles at Ian, who returns a fake one, before entering his apartment. There's no sight of Mickey yet, and he takes a minute to just breathe, slumping down on one of the barstools next to the kitchen counter. He needs to sit with his thoughts for a minute, figure out what to say.

Next time he lifts his head, he sees Mickey emerging from his room, hair sticking out in every direction, skin flushed this delicious soft pink colour still. Ian looks lower and notices the absence of a shirt, and it doesn't help his mind focus at all. Mickey is all hard muscles, and the new tattoo peeks at Ian from the waistband of Mickey's boxers, it's so inviting, taunting. 

Mickey stops at the fridge, pulling out a carton of orange juice. "Where'd ya' run off to?"

As he speaks, Ian tries hard to stay composed, but his voice betrays him. "Went out. Didn't go so well, so I left her there." 

Hands come too close to his face, and Ian struggles to breathe because there Mickey is, cupping his cheeks, trying to get their eyes to meet. "Oh come on, you gotta give me something more. What happened, Freckles? Too many Star Wars references? She not like you? Because that's kind of imposs―" 

Shutting his eyes, Ian pulls away. He interrupts. "No, Mick. That wasn't the problem. She liked me just fine. I, was the one with the issue." Ian looks to see Mickey's puzzled expression, so he mentally talks himself into having enough courage to get the truth out. "I can't enjoy company, not hers, not any other girls because there's this guy on my mind. You. You're the guy." 

Blue eyes are staring at him, wide and alive just like the sea on a stormy night, and Ian slumps his shoulders, continuing. "I always thought I was straight, never once liked a boy, but then I realised that's not true, because I always thought about you, even back then. Noticed how sexy your morning voice was, how plump your lips are. God, Mickey, I think you're so goddamn beautiful. I'm so fucking lost here, in my own head." He takes a breath, a pause. "I never got what I was feeling, but then we came here and you started getting with other guys openly. I just. I'm so fucking jealous. Because I wanna be the one who's with you."

Then lastly, almost with a sob, Ian falls forward, cowering into Mickey's toned chest. "I want you _so bad_ , you don't even know..." 

He prepares for the worst.

"Ian?" Mickey's voice is so timid, lacking it's usually confidence. It's scaring Ian to the core. "Oh My Fuckin'... You think? You think I don't know? No, I'm just the guy who's had it for his best friend for years. Fuck. It was you, man. You who got me thinking, understanding what or actually who I was into. I ain't interested in any of those guys. Not like I am with you." 

Ian freezes, he can't even breathe so the words sound punched out of him. "W-Wait... What?" 

There's a nervous chuckle coming from above, and then Mickey's tentative arms curling around him. "Ian, I knew I was gay when I noticed I could never stop thinking about you. Stupid fucking things like, what you would think if I wore this, or you know...Uh. When I was, um, in the shower." Mickey blushes so hard at that, coughing.

It's unreal, for Ian to hear this, to know that it's not one sided. Years. Mickey had said years, and Ian only recently understood anything about what he wanted. But the moment was here now, and he wasn't going to lose it, let it slip away. He needs this like he needs air. A man deprived of oxygen too long. 

"I wanna kiss you, please..." It's a pathetic little sound, his hands coming to rest on Mickey's hips. "Please, Mickey." 

First, it's a little nudge of lips, Ian's against Mickey's, but then when they collide again, Ian feels like he could melt. He's kissed plenty times before, but none of them were like this. None of them ever left his nerve endings searing like this. But Ian wants more, so much more. 

His legs feel numb, and he falls back into the chair, pulling Mickey down into his lap. Ian's being straddled, can feel Mickey's warm thighs pressed onto either side of his. The space around them is thick with need, with unspoken desires. Ian is drowning in it. 

Mickey breaks away, letting his head near Ian's ear. His breath is warm against it, when he bites at the sensitive lobe. " _Ian, oh, fucking..._ Thought about kissing you so many times. It's never been this fucking good in my head." 

With both hands coming to press against the bare skin of Mickey's back, Ian whimpers. The downright pathetic sound leaving his throat before he knows it as Mickey sinks down to his knees between Ian's legs. There's a predatory look in his eyes. 

"Wanna know how many fuckin' times I thought about this? All through senior year, now." Mickey has his hands figuring out how to unbuckle Ian's belt without breaking eye contact. "Want you to come in my mouth..."

Ian's mouth grows dry, Mickey's words lighting a steady fire in the pit of his stomach. The sound of his zipper going down, jeans firmly being tugged down enough, alongside his boxer briefs to reveal Ian's hardening cock. The cold air of the room feels great, but when Mickey has his mouth wrapped around the tip, warm and snug, he feels faint.

Pulling back just long enough, Mickey looks up at him with lewd eyes, fingers lightly stroking the underside of Ian's cock. "Wanted this so long. Fuck, Ian, you're so  _big, I love it."_

A second passes, and the that same mouth, spewing all these wonderfully filthy things is back around Ian's cock. Mickey works it slow at first, the cool pressure from his lip ring too sinful for words. Ian gasps, his hands flying down into Mickey's soft, tousled hair. He tries not to tug to hard, when the flat of Mickey's tongue drags down the length, then again, as if he was familiarising himself with the taste, the flavor of Ian.

And if Ian thought that was enough to make him come embarrassingly fast, Mickey increases the speed with which he bobs his head, taking more of Ian down his throat. Ian whines, fingers twisting into inky strands. "So good. So fucking good..." 

Mickey responds well to the praise, and focuses more on the head of Ian's cock, continuously tounging the slit, lapping up any traces of pre-come that surface. His head spins, because even though it's not his first blowjob, it's from Mickey. And that's enough to make Ian feel like he's on fire. Every time he looks down, sees Mickey, it makes his insides be reigned over by passion. 

"Getting close, Mick...  _So close."_ Another whimper, and Ian has his head rolling back between his shoulders. It's too good, setting every inch of his body ablaze with pleasure. His release stands on thin ice, the only thing stopping it from falling through is the fact that Ian wants to last longer, to savor as much of Mickey's mouth, and that damn lip ring that he can.

However, he doesn't manage, because the suction on his cock is growing stonger, Mickey's mouth growing wetter until spit is sliding down all around the erect length. It's getting wet and so messy and Ian can't fight it any more. " _Oh, fuck. Oh, yeah. Fuck, fuck, yeah, fuck."_ The string of words is barley out of Ian's mouth before he comes. His whole body convulsing, ringing with wave after wave of pleasure. His mind is floating, high on a cloud. It's too good to be real, but it is. 

Coming down from the aftermath of his orgasm takes longer than Ian expects, but the tingling feelings returns when he looks down and sees Mickey still on his knees, panting hard, those irresistible lips wrecked and painted with traces of Ian's release. Not to forget the hard outline of Mickey's own dick, throbbing against the material of his underwear.

"You taste amazing." Mickey's voice is so raspy and thick, and his tongue pokes out of his mouth to slowly licks his lips clean. He hums in approval, and Ian can't imagine anything hotter than this.

Carefully he slides down, crouching next to Mickey. Ian wants to return the favor, wants to make him feel as good. "Can I... Jerk you off? I just, I might be really bad at it." 

The tone of Mickey's whole demeanour changes to a softer one, and he shuffles closer to Ian, murmuring reassuring words. "It's okay, it's your first fucking time. Just... Do what you'd do yourself." 

Ian nods, and holding Mickey close with one arm to his waist, Ian slips the other hand into his boxers, wrapping a hand around Mickey's cock. It's hard, and thick, and wet at the tip and Ian just beams, delighted.

He takes Mickey's advice and does what he'd normally do to himself. The angle is challenging at first, but Ian gets the hang of keeping his hand turned like that. It's teasing strokes at first, his hand speeding up when throaty, needy groans spill from Mickey's lips. Ian leans in and kisses him, their tongues eventually delving out to entangle as Ian never stops moving his hand. He loves how hot and heavy Mickey feels against his palm, loves it too much.

Flicking his wrist, twisting lightly and Ian has Mickey coming into his hand, the sticky whiteness coating his fingers as Mickey's head drops onto his shoulder, crying out Ian's name over and over again. 

 

•••

They shower in turn, longing gazes and hands brushing ever so often until Ian settles onto the couch, remote in his hand and  _Star Wars_ playing on the screen. It's Friday night, meaning movie night, and he picks this. A perfect end to a perfect day.

Instead of settling on the opposite end of the couch, like Mickey normally would he sits flush aagainst Ian, curling into his side eventually. 

This makes Ian feel like he's walking on air, and as much as it scares him, he can't help but take the opportunity and never let go. 

Mickey was Ian's now, but if he thinks about it, they always belonged to one and other.

Settling his chin atop of Mickey's head, Ian lazily traces his finger along the intricate detailing that swirled and ran together to create the tattoo that coveted his arm. He's wants to be able to trace it right, with his eyes closed? one day.

Ian attempts to confirm his thoughts, cuddling closer to Mickey. "Are you mine?" 

Mickey smiles, Ian can't see it, but he can hear it in his voice. "Yeah. Think I always have been." 

That's all Ian wanted to hear.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest I've gone without wiring in so long, but it's been really shitty, until today.
> 
> PUNK MICKEY WOULD BE SO HOT THO RIGHT? MY ULTIMATE WET DREAM. Sid Vicious meets Mickey Milkovich Ayyyyyy
> 
> Here's a link to what is the tattoo Mick has on his arm http://inkedout4life.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/12/images-10.jpg
> 
> Hope you guys dig this! Leave me some comments and kudos, yes, no, maybe so!?  
> Till next time! Mwah!


End file.
